by Soraya May
Another pause. “Well, okay.”
“Cool.” I try not to act too enthusiastic. I remember always being suspicious of adults who were too enthusiastic about anything. “Have you got a paper copy?”
Phillip fishes in his bag. “Yeah.” Extracting a bunch of printed pages, he thrusts them at me. “You can borrow this one. It’s not finished yet, but it’s mostly done.”
I look at them solemnly, and take them. “Thanks, man. I’m looking forward to it.” There’s another silence, and he looks at me.
“I gotta go and meet my Mom now.”
“Okay, man, catch you later. And hey,” He turns back. “Thanks for letting me read your story, okay?”
For the briefest instant, there’s a smile, before he starts walking down the corridor.
Smiling to myself, I make my way back to my office.
As soon as I walk in, I see my desk phone blinking at me. No-one calls my desk phone, except- Yep, it’s Bob Walters. He wouldn’t call unless there was something seriously up. Without sitting down, I grab my phone in one hand, plunking the papers down on the desk.
“Bob. Tom here. You called?”
His gravelly voice comes down the line at me. “Tom, there’s a problem. The media has gotten hold of some of the specifics of this deal you’re planning, and they’re going berserk. They don’t know much, but you need to get talking. We’re past the point where we can just obfuscate and say nothing, so we have to use the opposite approach, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah. Tell them about everything, except the important stuff. I hear you, Bob. Okay, get someone to forward me a list of who’s contacted you, and I’ll get on it. I promise they will have unfettered access to a hundred possible versions of the truth.”
I hear a snort. “Very good. Call me back tomorrow and let me know how things stand.”
“Will do, Bob. Take care now.” I hang up, and grab my coat. I need to figure out how to sort this out now, and getting out of the office is the best way to do it.
16
Being underneath this desk is worse than being underneath my own desk. Why my parents decided that directly beneath the computer area was the best place to store their record player, I do not know. A thick layer of dust covers everything, and a girl can only hold her breath for so long. Pushing the case back into place, I attach a couple of screws - lightly, ‘cause you never know when you’re going to need to open the thing up again - put the power cable back in, and flick the power switch.
Beep. I’m dreading the appearance of the second and third beeps, the characteristic sound of ‘something is seriously wrong’ in a computer for many years, but it doesn’t happen, and in a minute the screen powers up. Huh. I guess I do get it right now and again.
Wiping the dust from my hands, I turn around. “Okay, Poppa, looks like it might be going again. Try it for a day or so, and then I’ll come back and check on it, okay?”
From the other side of the room, my father looks over his book of crosswords at me. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re always here when we need you.”
“Of course, Poppa. It’s not like it’s a big deal. How are you feeling today?”
He nods slowly. “Much better. Sleeping’s getting much easier, you know? Means I have more energy. I might go out for a walk later on today, if I can find my stick, and if I can get your mother to leave me alone for half an hour.” He mock-frowns. “But I don’t like my chances. We’ll see.”
“That’s great; if you can, you really should.” He’s been getting steadily better this week, and every time I see him, he seems a little bit stronger.
“So, this deal ‘ting I hear about on the news, this bond issue that your firm is doing. What do you think about it? People are saying that it’s going to be a huge moneymaker, you know?”
I plump down in the old armchair next to him. “Yeah, I don’t know. I mean, it is. But I still don’t know.”
He looks at me carefully. “You think it’s a good investment? I mean, we have some money set aside, and I’ve been thinking about what to do with it. I’ve seen all the advertisements talking about how to sign up to buy this ‘ting. If we could make some money off this, then…”
“Poppa, I don’t know. Why would you want to do something risky like that?”
“Well, if we could put away a bit more, then maybe we wouldn’t need you to do stuff like coming over and fixing the computer, you know?” He looks at me over the top of his glasses. “I don’t want you to have to look after us when we’re old; that isn’t fair, and with the way the world is going, it’s not going to be so easy, even for young people like you.”
I lean over and kiss his bald head. “Poppa, I like coming over and fixing the computer.” He snorts, and I know better than to lie to him. “Okay, I don’t like fixing the computer, but that’s not the point. I like coming to see you, and it’s not a big deal. Besides, I wouldn’t trust some technician to do it right.”
My father smiles, a broad grin that lights up his face. “No, that’s true, you wouldn’t, would you, Ronnie? Always wanting to do things your own way, ever since you were a little girl.” Closing his crossword book, he looks at the newspaper again. He’s about the only person I know who still subscribes to a print newspaper, but I’m glad he still does. I remember when I was little, coming to sit on his lap, and reading the newspaper with him; when I sit here watching him doing it, it reminds me of that. “But this deal, I mean, look at this.” He gestures at the headline.
WALTERS CAPITAL POISED TO DO IT AGAIN: INVESTORS HUNGRY FOR MACAULAY BOND
“It says here that people are wanting to sign up to be involved, and handing their money over even though you guys aren’t saying what’s going on. It’s kinda crazy, but there must be something to it, right?”
I take his hand. “Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, it will make a bunch of money for a bunch of people if it goes ahead, sure.”
“Well, Ronnie, maybe your mother and I should be some of those people. I don’t want us to be a burden to you when we’re older, and these days, that means you have to have the money, right?” I nod slowly. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not going to be around forever.”
Oh no. “Don’t say that, Poppa. Not now, there’s no need. You’re fine.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not fine, honey. I’m not dead. For sure. But fine is not what I am. And,” his voice firms, “I’m not leaving your mother on her own with this house to worry about, and you to worry about, and—”
“You know as well as I do that Momma’s going to worry about things whether you are here or not, and no force on this Earth is going to change that. Look, just don’t make any sudden decisions, okay? Just talk to me about it before you decide to commit money to something serious, whatever it is.”
There’s a clang, and my mother backs into the room, holding a tray. “Right. Coffee, both of you. What happened to the computer-thing?”
Computer-thing. They’ve had a computer for twenty years, and she still calls it the computer-thing. I was fixing it when I was ten, and it’s still the computer-thing. “It’s going okay, Momma, I think. Just be careful when you’re clicking on things, and don’t run any programs that you don’t recognize, okay? Just the usual things.”
She looks wide-eyed at me, and tosses a mock salute while she’s pouring the coffee. “Okay, Madam. No clicking. Got it. Drink your coffee.” I make a face, and decide not to say anything. “Now, what about your work? How are the people? How is your boss, this—what is his name—Macaulay man? How is he treating you?”
I open my mouth to say something, and stop. How is he treating me? “Well, it’s okay. The team is really nice, and I’m learning a lot.”
She won’t be deterred. “What about the boss-man? Does he respect what you’re saying? I saw him on the Internet television program the other day.” She purses her lips. “He does look like a handsome guy, and you know, those handsome guys, they think they can get away with anything when it comes to women.”
“That was for not being serious. This is serious.” I sip my coffee slowly and try not to smile. “You know, Ronnie, I just want those people to take you seriously, that’s all. Don’t let them tell you what to do, okay?”
“Momma, I understand. They take me seriously, they do. But remember last week, you were giving me a lecture—sorry, sorry—telling me about how I needed to be a grownup and listen to what they were all saying? How can I do both this things at the same time?”
There has never been a situation where telling my mother that she has given contradictory advice has changed a single thing, and this isn’t about to be one. “Don’t change the subject. Just make sure they value what you’re doing.”
I admit defeat. And, it’s not like it’s bad advice anyway. “Okay, okay, I will.” Finishing my coffee, I stand up. “I need to go; I’m supposed to be meeting the rest of the team for drinks tonight.” I kiss them both and go to find my bag. “I’ll call tomorrow and find out what’s happened with the computer, okay?”
“Okay, honey, have a good time. Make sure you catch a cab home, okay? Don’t try and walk. You know I read something about how dangerous the streets are and…”
Nodding and waving and agreeing, I make my escape, and head for the bar. Is Tom going to be there?
17
I stare at my Cosmo, and swizzle the stick pensively. I could make better, I think. It doesn’t taste bad, though, I’ll give them that, although for the amount of money they’re charging, it ought to taste like the tears of angels. Yeesh, things are different to how they were in college, that’s for sure. Next to me, Abby is swiping furiously at something on her phone. I really don’t want to know what she’s swiping.
“Hey, Abby.” I carefully avoid looking at her screen. “Do you know if Errol and Adam are coming? They said they had something to finish working on, but I’m surprised they’re not here.”
“Uh.” Abby doesn’t look up. “No, no, maybe, maybe, ugh, what the hell were you thinking? Sorry, Ron, what did you say?” I lean over, still trying not to look at her screen. “Errol. And. Adam. Where. Are. They?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, they messaged me about ten minutes ago, said they were coming with the quantitative team. Don’t worry.” She thrusts her phone under my face. “Hey, what do you reckon about THIS one?”
Terrified at what I might see, I put my drink carefully on the table, and look down. The sight that greets me is not what I’d expected.
“Abby, it’s a flower.”
“Actually, Ronnie, it’s a flower arrangement. Do you like it or not?”
I am really not sure what to say at this point. “Uh, sure. You’re on an…app where you are rating flower arrangements?’
“Yeah. Flowr. It’s cool, you should try it. Look, I’ll send you a signup code, and you can get ten bucks off local florists. Seriously.”
I need another drink. “Thank you, Abby. I…thank you.”
Heading for the bar, I see Adam and Errol walk in, along with a bunch of people from Tom’s team. I wave to them, and they start forging through the crowd in my direction.
“Adam! What do you want?” He goggles at me. I mime drinking motions, and he nods and says something, but in the din it’s impossible to hear. I gesticulate to where Abby is trying to occupy a booth by taking up as much space as possible with coats and handbags, and resolve just to buy him a Cosmo instead.
If there were a universal hand-sign for ‘look out for unexpected flower arrangements”, I’d make it, but I don’t think there is.
Round of Cosmos perched on a tray, I skirt the dance floor, and by the time I get back to the booth everyone’s ensconced, packed in tight. I hand out drinks to everyone—hope they remember that considering how much more they get paid than I do—and perch on the end.
“Hey, Ron—how’s it going?” Billy Flynn claps me on the shoulder. Since I joined the team, Billy’s been cheerily oblivious to the fact I’m a woman, and has included me with gusto in his dirty jokes and endearingly infantile pranks. He’s like a nice version of one of the guys at the back of the room.
“Billy! Pretty good, although I’m sick of busting my ass on those papers. Don’t you wish academics wrote a bit more like human beings sometimes?”
He laughs. “I hear you, Ron. When I was teaching, I got a constant stream of people asking me how to ‘write like an academic,’ and I kept on wanting to tell them ‘Don’t write like an academic! Run a mile from it!”
“Hold on. You were a college professor?” It comes out more surprised than I intended, and Billy chuckles at my sudden discomfort.
“Because I look more like I ought to be holding a football than a piece of chalk, is that it? Ooo, stereotypes.” He drums his fingers on the table. “Truth is, Ron, I did actually go to college on a football scholarship, but when I got there I realized I liked teaching more than I liked football, and one of them was going to take me a hell of a lot further than the other. So here I am.”
“Thanks, Billy. I had no idea.” I push one of the Cosmos toward him. “Have a drink?”
He looks at it warily. “Thanks, Ron, but I might just go for a beer, if that’s okay with you. I appreciate the thought though.”
“Sure thing. Let’s see if we can get you out.” Extracting Billy from the middle of a crowded booth takes some doing, and by the time we’re finished, he’s got a round of drinks orders to go with him. When he gets back, I’m wedged in opposite Errol and Abby; Abby is excitedly showing Errol flower arrangements, and Errol’s doing his best to look equally excited.
“So, Ronnie,” Billy pushes another Cosmo in my direction, and I grasp it, grateful to be away from flower-arrangement-Tinder, “how are you finding the team? I can imagine it’s pretty overwhelming, but I hope you’re finding your feet okay. Tom keeps talking about how great it is to have you on board for this project.”
“Does he?” I try not to look too surprised.
Billy nods vigorously. “Sure does. I haven’t heard him be this enthusiastic about a trainee since…well, ever, now that I think about it. He should be telling you this himself.”
“Is he coming tonight?”
Billy laughs. “Not a damn chance. He never comes out for drinks, as much as me and Mike and the team try to make him. I’ve been trying to get him to come out and enjoy himself for years now, and it never damn well works. He comes to dinner, and to Christmas with the kids, but this kind of thing? Forget it.”
“Christmas with the kids? I wouldn’t have thought that would really be his speed.”
“Are you kidding? Every year he comes to visit us, and brings presents. He does the same for Mike’s family too, I know. Mike’s little girl was in hospital and Tom was in every damn day for two weeks, writing her poems and songs and things. My kids keep asking me when he’s coming to visit again.”
“Huh. I had no idea.”
Billy is serious for a moment, looking into his beer. “Tom takes care of the people around him, you know? That’s why his team is so loyal to him. Truth is, we could all make more money somewhere else. Those Global Finance pricks email me every week to offer me a job at twice my salary, and I’m nothing special. But it’s more than just money. This is a cutthroat business, and in most businesses, people are climbing over each other to get to the top. Not here.” He takes a big swig of beer. “Here, we’re a family, and that’s because of Tom Macaulay. You won’t find a better guy to work for than him.”
“Okay. Thanks, Bill.” He beams, and pounds me on the back again. I hold onto my drink, with some difficulty.
“Hey, don’t mention it! Glad to have you on board. Man, once this deal goes down, we’re all going to deserve a vacation.”
Across the other side of the table, Abby looks up from her phone and waves to me. The music is too loud to hear what she’s saying, but she rolls her eyes. I give her a what are you talking
about? face, and she gesticulates again. Maybe it’s my drink? I study it carefully.
“Good evening, Ronnie.”
I look up; Tom’s standing right next to me, dark suit and crimson tie, and a thrill of electricity runs through me. How can he be an ass and so Goddamned sexy at the same time? He notices the expression of surprise on my face, and opens his mouth to speak, but before he does, everyone else notices him, and there’s a chorus of appreciation.
“Tom! What are you doing here, man? I was just telling Ronnie that you never come out to these things? Want a beer, to toast the inevitable future success of the great Macaulay Bond?”
Tom holds up his hands placatingly. “Easy, everybody. I’m afraid I can’t stay. Go back to your drinks.” He kneels down next to me, and speaks carefully into my ear.
“Look, I’m sorry to bother you here outside of work time. Can we talk for a moment?”
“Sure, I…uh, it’s fine.” I move over as much as I can in the crowded booth, and Tom perches on the side of it. I can feel his lean body pressed against me, his thigh jammed against mine, and smell the scent of his cologne. It’s dark and noisy, and he moves close to me, putting his arm on the back of the booth so it’s almost around my shoulders. My head spins, and I don’t think it’s the Cosmos. Focus, Ronnie. Fantasizing about your boss could be deleterious to your career prospects.
“What do you need?” It comes out a bit more formal than I mean it to, and his face falls.
“I came here specifically to talk to you. You know those papers I gave you? Well, I did some digging on their references and, I’ve found something pretty important about the model we’re using. If I’m right, using this approach could give us,” he pauses, “some real problems.”
I stir my drink to distract myself from the deliciousness of the contact with his body. “Okay.”
“So, I need to investigate this quickly and quietly. And I need your help to do it. Are you able to stay after work tomorrow night and go through this with me?”
